


Mornings Between Jobs

by Tassos



Category: Leverage
Genre: Comment Fic, Curtain Fic, Multi, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:04:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9149920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassos/pseuds/Tassos
Summary: Fuzzy mornings between jobs.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kisahawklin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/gifts).



Eliot was always up first. Parker's eyes would slit open when the rustling started on the other side of Hardison, and that's when she usually rolled over onto her side to snug up half on top of him from where he'd sprawled during the night. He wouldn't wake up when Eliot rose, but his arm usually curled around Parker. Parker would watch Eliot get up and head shirtless toward the bathroom in just the pajama bottoms he'd wear to bed. It was usually still dark, or near enough that the light from the bathroom was the only light. When Eliot came back, he'd usually smile a little when he saw Parker awake, then he'd rummage around for workout clothes. After he was dressed he'd come back to the bed and give her a good morning kiss on the lips, and then kiss Hardison's forehead.

Sometimes Hardison would wake up then. "Eliot," he'd murmur sleepily with his eyes closed.

"Go back to sleep," Eliot would say, and then he'd kiss Hardison again, this time on the mouth, give Parker a wink and head out.

Hardison always went back to sleep. Parker would wiggle against his warm frame and sometimes she'd fall back asleep too.

On those days between jobs, on dreary winter mornings when rain pattered against the brew pub's roof, Parker liked to make a nest of blankets in her armchair downstairs. She wouldn't change out of her fleece pajamas, taking the warmth from their bed with her. Once she got her cereal, and all the blankets arranged for maximum coverage in her own little cocoon, she'd switch the screen to cartoons on the lower two-thirds. She'd keep the security cameras up in top third as they switched lazily from the outside the front of the pub to the empty interior to the kitchen to the back alley.

Parker loved this part of the day. She could still hear Hardison lightly snoring up in the loft over the low volume of her show. She was like the spider at the middle of her web, warm and fed, as she watched the early comings and goings outside the pub. Eventually, Eliot would come up the street back from his run to the gym. She'd watch him hit the pub kitchen, and then she'd switch the surveillance camera there to the full screen for a minute, to make she he was okay. One morning he'd gotten jumped, and though he'd been fine and just a little bloody, she still liked to know that he was in one piece.

She didn't keep the screen up long, just long enough to be satisfied, then she'd go back to her cartoons and only occasional glance up to the kitchen feed where Eliot was making something for breakfast. He made eggs a lot, and smoothies, and sometimes pancakes or bread pudding or cheese grits. Sometimes cinnamon rolls if Hardison had gone to bed at a reasonable time. Today he made cinnamon rolls.

When he'd eaten and the rolls were baking, he came back to their rooms.

"How was your run?" Parker asked because he liked it when she asked.

"Good," Eliot said. He came a dropped a kiss on her head. "I saw Del Marco at the gym this morning." Del Marco was the Portland cop Eliot was cultivating. They'd sent him couple tips for some local jobs, and he'd helped them close them out.

Eliot went upstairs to shower and the noise finally roused Hardison to come down, his t-shirt riding up when he stretched his arms over his head. He joined Parker on the edge of her armchair cocoon and leaned in for a lingering good morning kiss that tasted like tooth-paste. Hardison didn't stay long, going for the coffee that Eliot had put on earlier and coming back to curl up beside her. It was a tight fit in the armchair until they wiggled so that Parker was sitting sideways on top of Hardison. They watched cartoons and the security feeds and Hardison made these little noises somewhere between laughing and humming that made Parker's insides glow.

Eventually Eliot would come back down, clean and dressed, like their clock to tell them that it was time for second breakfast. 

The cinnamon rolls were gooey and delicious and Hardison pressed his sticky lips to Eliot's, while Eliot pretended like it was no big deal, he just wanted cinnamon rolls.

"Don't lie, I know you love me," Hardison said.

Eliot didn't say it much, to either of them, but it was there that morning in the roll of his eyes and the tiny grin he wore afterward as he got up to get the second batch out of the oven and a plateful of fortune cookies for Parker. "Yeah, yeah, I love you," he said.

She cracked the first one open, that glowy feeling in her chest again, and read _Let good deeds speak for themselves_. 

Later, she and Hardison would head back to the workshop, go through their gear. Hardison might invent some new gadget because he sometimes did that. Parker would check her rigs, and maybe go through their list again, get on the internet and see what the bad guys had been up too lately. Eliot would get the kitchen fired up as the pub staff showed up. He liked to help with the weekend lunch rush. That evening, he'd bring whatever special he'd made up for the day, and they'd talk over Parker's list.

In another week or two, they'd be ready for their next job.


End file.
